


The Roommates - Chapter 1

by JD_Sira



Category: Harley Quinn (Comics), Poison Ivy (Comics), Suicide Squad (2016), Suicide Squad (Comics)
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, Femdom, Force Choking, Non-Consensual Violence, Out of Character, Passout, facesit, headscissor, headscissors, knockout - Freeform, ko, smother
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 13:20:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8802400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JD_Sira/pseuds/JD_Sira
Summary: Jerome decides to test out his roommates' headscissor game ... it does not go well for him.





	

Jerome only sorta knew what he was getting himself into. That was intentional, because if he had been well informed he might not have gone through with it. After coming across a couple videos, and being surprisingly turned on, he wanted to give these “headscissors” things a try, but he was wondering if they may be a bit less pleasant than they looked. He figured the guys in the videos had to be acting, right? It couldn’t actually be that much of a burden to have your head in between some beautiful woman’s legs! At least, that was what he was hoping, as he wasn’t the type of person hell-bent on pain and discomfort; he just found the idea of women unyieldingly in control to be really hot.

As fate would have it, he lived with two women (it’s not easy to afford your own place in the Bay; you gotta have roommates!). As far as Jerome could tell, the universe was a bit out of balance in some way, because karma had served him unerringly well (a debt he hoped he never had to repay). The two women Jerome lived with were gorgeous, and while Jerome had never actually seen either of them work out or talked with them about fitness, he could tell they were both way stronger than they looked. There weren’t any bulging muscles on either of them, indeed apart from being shockingly attractive their bodies appeared fairly ordinary, but living with people will give you a glimpse at their strength – invariably at some point someone accidentally kicks the remote under the couch or knocks a magnet under the refrigerator. He had seen one of them lift the couch much like he lifted a backpack, and the other one lifted the refrigerator (a feat he still could not explain).

Jerome’s roommates were also fascinatingly quirky, and visibly so. First there was Pamela, whose red hair and charming southern drawl made her stick out quickly from a crowd. But that wasn’t the most unique part of her. Pamela was … well Jerome wasn’t actually entirely sure what Pamela did, he just assumed she was a botanist who was really into environmental activism. There were a number of plants she tended to around the apartment, and the rare glimpses Jerome got into her room revealed this was really just spillover from what was an almost concerning collection of plants. And Jerome had learned exactly what went into trash, recycling, and compost largely because of how pissed Pamela would get if he through something into the wrong bin – there had been lots of lectures on the importance of the environment and sustainability. Not that Jerome had any opposition to this, as he considered himself an environmentalist as well, but he didn’t feel compelled to carve out quite as much time in his life to make everything perfectly green. Speaking of green, the most curious thing about Pamela was a clear obsession with the color green. She wore obsessive amounts of green; even her lipstick was usually green! Somehow it worked on her.

Jerome’s second roommate was Harleen. Harleen was apparently a psychiatrist, but Jerome suspected she was at least as crazy as any of her patients. Her behavior was generally quite erratic, her attire tended to be fairly absurd, and for the life of him he could not find any consistency in her schedule – she really just seemed to come and go when she wanted to. She was pale as hell, and topped off her odd appearance with a head of bleach blonde hair pulled constantly into two pig tails each of which was tipped with a different color: one pink, the other blue. The pig tails always struck Jerome as particularly disconcerting. One typically associates pig tails with the youthful and innocent, but Harleen somehow managed to make them look something just shy of sinister. If Jerome had run across her on the street, he would have assumed she was a total maniac … having lived with her, this may not have been too far from the truth, but she was clearly good friends with Pamela, and her sense of humor was definitely enjoyable … if often rather dark or morbid.

Notwithstanding the fact that Jerome sometimes couldn’t stop himself from staring, and the two women appeared to get some amusement out of being sultry and sensuous just to watch him squirm, there was nothing romantic between Jerome and either of them. It was quite clear that neither of them had any interest in him. They didn’t dislike him, as far as he could tell, it just appeared that he was largely a non-factor in their lives. They were gone all the time, Jerome assumed often traveling, though he never knew where to, and it was clear they had plenty on their minds and no real desire to bring Jerome into their lives more than as a roommate and someone to hang out with while they were bored at home.

Still, a particularly drunken and frivolous night had emboldened Jerome, and he had confessed in a moment of intoxicated candor that he was very attracted to the idea of women behaving in a manner that was physically dominant and controlling. Hammered as he was, it didn’t take too much pressing to get him to go into greater detail and describe the gloriously sexy art of submission wrestling he had recently witnessed. Hammered though he was, he did not miss the shift in the way Pamela and Harleen started looking at him as he shared his curiosity about the experience of being mercilessly dominated. For the first time in their relationship, they were looking at him as something more than a passing source of amusement; little grins pulled at the corners of their mouths, and they shared more than one glance before fixing their eyes on him – eyes that had moved from passively entertaining his presence to genuine interest, maybe even desire … no, not quite desire either. They looked something more akin to … hungry? It was hard to describe. Jerome just thought he saw a twinkle in their eyes that was more mischievous than desire. He might have described it as sinister, but sexual interest intertwined with their intense stares in a way that made sinister not quite the right word either. It was a really unique look, and it was really turning him on.

Apparently their eyes were not lying about their emotions, because, as soon as he finished his confession about his newfound interest, Harleen leaned in closer to him than she had ever been before – close enough for him to feel her breath on his lips when she spoke, and, holding his gaze, asked him softly, “Jerome, how would you like to live out your new fantasies … tonight?” She spoke every word slowly, letting him try to anticipate where she might be going, but she really let the last word linger on her lips, holding his gaze the whole way through.

Jerome’s breath had caught in his throat the moment she leaned in close, but as she let the word “tonight” veritably drip off her lips, Jerome felt as if his tongue had turned into some strange mixture of cotton and lead – his mouth had gone bone dry and his tongue felt like it was about to drop down his throat … just as soon as it managed to convince his breath that his throat wasn’t the right place to hold up while it waited for his heart to start beating properly again. With everything involved in his vocal system functionally jammed, all he really managed to do in response to Harleen’s question was silently move his lips in formations that he could only assume (read as “hope”) would have formed words under ordinary circumstances. What he had been trying to say was … actually, Jerome wasn’t entirely certain what it was he was even trying to say; his thoughts were no more coherent than the weird noises his mouth was making as his lips and tongue went through the motions of forming sounds without help from his throat to actually produce words.

To make things even more difficult, Pamela leaned in next to Harleen, stealing his gaze with her hauntingly green eyes, slowly replacing Harleen as the primary object in his field of vision as Harleen slowly drifted to the side to let Pamela play her part. 

“Yeah, Jerome,” Pamela whispered, her voice so soft Jerome could barely hear it but so sultry and sexy that he could not possibly not have heard it. “Would you really like to be dominated …”

“… tonight.” Harleen finished. This time the word was barely a whisper, but her lips were now so close to his ear that Jerome could swear he felt not only the warmth of her breath, but also the soft caress of the air that had been lightly pushed aside by the subtle movements of her lips.

Jerome mustered all his remaining will power and muscle control, and managed to persuade his lips and tongue to eek out the word “Okay.”

“Wait here. We’ll be right back,” Pamela whispered. And with that the Pamela and Harleen pulled away from him and sauntered off into their respective rooms, leaving Jerome to try to process what had just happened, which was difficult to do because his brain appeared fully dedicated to feelings of stunned confusion and erotic excitement. He didn’t even get enough of a grip on himself to wonder why the two girls had popped back into their rooms.

In either case, he would not have been left wondering what they were doing for long. Less than a minute later, Pamela and Harleen returned to the living room. The outfits they were not wearing drew Jerome’s brain to a complete halt. Harleen walked out first, wearing nothing more than a pair of blue and red underwear and a small, white, spaghetti strap crop top that made it maybe half way down from her breasts to her belly button, leaving Jerome with an unprecedented view of her marvelous figure. Jerome knew Harleen was thin and shapely; he had not realized that her skin was stretched taught over finely honed and sculpted muscles. Jerome could see the muscles in Harleen’s legs flex just under her skin as she walked towards him, and her ab muscles seemed to be enjoying a casual dance with the skin on her stomach, some pressing forward with each sway of her hips and then yielding to their counterparts as her hips swayed the other way. Jerome put every bit of effort he could into keeping his mouth from simply falling open, but immediately gave up on any attempt not to stare. He understood the notion of futility.

Or, at least he thought he did. As Harleen stepped into the living room Jerome got his first look at Pamela, who had come out of her room right behind Harleen. With the two of them now in view, there was nothing Jerome could do to keep his mouth from just falling open. Pamela wore nothing more than a bra and panties. The bra was a bright, light green, smooth fabric with a maple leaf pattern etched into it. Additionally, the top of the bra had peaks and valleys following the shapes of the maple leaves. Her panties were like nothing Jerome had ever seen. They were dark green, and looked like they were made of an actual vine. This vine wound its way around her hips and legs, following just the right path to perfectly accentuate all of her spectacular curves and sensual musculature. Simple little leaves branched from the weave of the vine. They were mostly decorative, but also covered what the lowest standards of modesty would at least demand, though the panties somehow made it clear to any onlooker that this was more about being provocative and leaving the observer’s mind wanting than out of any obligation to appease any authority on modesty. The simple reality was that a tremendous amount of her skin remained exposed between the vines and leaves.

Jerome had always appreciated Pamela’s marvelous figure, but this was the first time he could really see what she had to offer. Her hour glass was the real deal, with the slightest glimpse of her hip bones visible just above her groin to accentuate the flare of her hips and direct your gaze to the area between her legs that was currently putting on the pretense of modesty. Her breasts emerged gracefully above her bra, which did fairly little to hide their shape and size, which could most accurately be described as perfect and perfect. They were big and round, but not too big; there was just enough there for the average man to grab a handful with only a little bit left outside of his grasp to make him wish his hands were just a tad bigger.

Jerome didn’t realize how long he had been sitting there with his mouth hanging open until Harleen mockingly asked him if he was “enjoying the view.” It was in that moment that he realized that the two women had been standing at the entrance to the room for a good few seconds while he closed in on drooling on himself. Additionally, he suddenly became keenly aware of the fact that he hadn’t looked either of them in the eyes since they had returned from their rooms. Bracing himself for the derisive glowers he was anticipating, and hoping the hadn’t just blown his chances at the best night of his life, he finally brought his gaze up to meet theirs. At this point he was pleasantly surprised, if mildly confused, to see the two women just looking at him with mild bemusement. Despite their apparent lack of ire, Jerome felt obliged to try to apologize.

“Sorry – I just – I didn’t – I tried to –” At this point his stammering apology was cut off by the musical sound of Harleen and Pamela’s combined laughter. Harleen’s laugh was a high-pitched, giggling laugh that combined melodically with Pamela’s throaty, more sultry laugh.

“It’s ok, honey,” Harleen reassured him through her subsiding giggles. “Do you think we were standing here like this by accident?”

“By all means, sweetie, enjoy yourself,” Pamela said as the two of them started slowly approaching him, their steps measured and full of purpose, their hips swaying in a manner that should have looked exaggerated but somehow didn’t.

“For as long as you can, anyway. We aren’t planning to make this night pleasant for you, after all,” Harleen said, the volume of her voice dropping as she drew closer to him.

With each step closer to him, Jerome’s heartbeat grew more rapid, and his breathing quickened until it sounded like he was wrapping up a long, slow evening jog.

“I know,” Jerome managed to mutter with one of his breathy exhales.

“Who are we planning to make this night pleasant for, Jerome?” Pamela asked in a low, husky voice as she and Harleen finished closing the distance to the spot where he had been anchored to the couch for the last few minutes. At this point Jerome was looking up at them from his seated position, and in this moment they seemed impossibly tall.

“For you?” Jerome asked tentatively. Not because he wasn’t sure that his answer was correct, but because in this moment, gazing up at these two powerful and commanding women, not an ounce of self-confidence remained in his body.

“That’s right, Jerome!” Pamela exclaimed with false enthusiasm. “Very good.”

Harleen placed her knees on either side of his right leg, bracing herself with her harms on either side of his head as she leaned in close so he could hear her whisper: “Does your pleasure matter at all tonight, Jerome?”

“No,” Jerome answered immediately, confident in this answer as much as he had ever been in any answer, said confidence only growing as he saw the muscles in her arm flex under her skin as she leaned in towards him.

“Do you matter at all tonight, Jerome?” Pamela asked, mirroring Harleen’s position on the other side of his body as she leaned in to whisper her ominous question.

“No.” Jerome’s answer was unhesitant and matter of fact. He understood that this night was not about him. He planned to enjoy it, and eagerly anticipated it, but he understood that these were happy upshots, and held no real meaning.

“Good boy, Jerome,” Pamela whispered slowly into his ear. “Good boy.”

“Are you going to be a good boy tonight, Jerome?” Harleen whispered into his other ear, letting her hot breath tickle his earlobe. 

“Yes, of course! I’ll be a good boy, always a good boy,” Jerome stated emphatically through his hard breathing, hoping they could hear how committed he was.

“Jerome,” Pamela whispered, “this is very important, so I want you to pay very close attention. Are you paying close attention?”

“Yes.”

“Jerome, tell me who you belong to.”

“What?” Jerome asked, a little bit confused. “Belong?” Some part of Jerome’s brain was perplexed by the notion of belonging to another person.

Pamela pulled back from where she had been whispering into his ear to look him dead in the eyes, holding his gaze unwaveringly. “Tell me,” she said very slowly, “who you belong to. Tell me … who owns you, Jerome.”

Some part of Jerome’s brain tried to scream at him not to answer that question, but the scream became an easily suppressed whisper behind the sound of his wildly excited heartbeat. Jerome knew how he was supposed to answer this question. He knew what he was to say; he heard the command underwriting the question, and he complied.

“You do,” Jerome said. “I belong to you. Both of you. I am yours.”

“Very good, my pet,” Pamela said with a pleased (and somewhat sinister) smile, taking care to accentuate Jerome’s new title and position. “Very good.”

Jerome was close to hyperventilating, and his heartbeat was probably dangerously high. He was overcome with a type of excitement he didn’t even know existed; the type of excitement that only comes with surrender. The type of thrill that that only comes with abandoning your humanity and handing your personhood to someone else. For tonight, Jerome did not belong to himself, and he was simultaneously terrified and ecstatic.

Harleen let out a little giggle. “Oh this is fun! I don’t usually keep pets! … Well, at least, not for very long …”

“Jerome,” Pamela said softly, “I need you to lean forward, and put your hands behind your back for me.”

“Okay.”

“Now hold still. I am going to bind your hands so you don’t flail. It’s annoying when my pet flails.”

If Jerome’s mind had been even remotely functional, he might have wondered why Pamela had any background knowledge about the annoyance of flailing pets. Unfortunately for Jerome, his mind was not even approaching functional at this point … in addition to which he had passively submitted to the suppression of his instinct for self-interest. In any case, Jerome didn’t even manage to see the warning flag … not that he could have done anything about it at this point, bent over underneath Pamela and Harleen with his hands tied together behind his back. Jerome had no idea where the rope had come from, why it felt like it had leaves on it, or how it had tied itself so quickly around his wrists, but he also wasn’t the least bit interested in the answer to any of the obvious questions he should have been asking.

“Now, lie down on the floor,” Harleen commanded. Jerome complied without hesitation. Pamela crouched down by his feet and bound his legs together at the ankles, just as she had done with his wrists, only this time she did so without asking for permission or even letting Jerome know she was doing it. She didn’t need to ask him, and she didn’t need to inform him. He was her property; he was not entitled to that type of treatment.

Jerome lay still and compliant on the ground, neither speaking nor moving, but trying hard not to hyperventilate.

Pamela finished tying Jerome’s ankles together, stood up, and looked down at his panting form in irritation.

“Dammit Jerome. Calm down and snap out of your panting stupor. I like my pets to surrender their personhood, not their personality. Focus. Pull yourself together!” Pamela commanded.

A moment ago Jerome was struggling to avoid hyperventilating. But, a moment ago, it was merely his desire to calm himself. Now it was Pamela’s. In a matter of seconds, Jerome brought his breathing under control, slowed his racing heart a fair amount, and focused on letting his character and personality press their way back to expressiveness. He had to please his owners, and they wanted him to behave like himself. Fortunately, his personality was easier to find now that he had focused enough to bring his emotions under control.

“Much better,” Pamela said.

“Are you ready, pet?” Harleen asked with a giggle, clearly looking forward to the night ahead.

Against all the odds, Jerome clung to his personality enough to not immediately respond according to his first impulse, which would have simply landed him saying “yes, of course” again. His owners wanted his personality, and tonight they would get whatever they desired. In that moment, he used the fortitude derived from his commitment to Pamela and Harleen to cement his hold on his personality, guaranteeing that he would at behave as himself for the remainder of the night, no matter what happened. This he would do for his owners. Having cemented his relationship with his personality, he let himself respond.

“Yeah, sure, why not? Let’s see what your legs can do. They don’t look as big as the girls in the video – I am sure I can survive a bit of a squeeze,” Jerome said with a grin.

“Do you think so?” Pamela asked with a smirk that said in no uncertain terms that Jerome didn’t know what he was talking about. She contemplated Jerome for a moment, clearly making some sort of internal calculation. “Ok, my pet, you have approached all of this with enthusiasm, and you have listened well, and, to be honest, I kind of like you. We have certainly had worse roommates, at the very least. So I will do you a small kindness in return.”

Pamela clearly had not finished, but she paused to straddle him and lower herself slowly and sensually onto her hands and knees, holding her body poised just barely above his and leaning in close, turning her head slightly to let her nose slip in beside his and leaving her lips lingering just shy of a kiss before she started to speak again.

“Think carefully before you respond, my pet, because you will not be gifted with another kindness tonight,” Pamela said softly, letting Jerome feel her breath tickle his lips with each syllable. “You are new to this, and likely not cognizant to the depths to which we might drag you. So I will ask you this once … when would you like us to stop?”

Jerome followed his owner’s instruction and took a moment to think about the question. He had seen a good few videos, and he knew that occasionally a man being scissored would pass out. That was, in his opinion, taking things a little far, but ultimately it always seemed that there was only a brief period of real discomfort before these guys had passed out, and while they had put up a good wiggling fight occasionally it didn’t seem too excruciatingly unpleasant. None of these guys had ever done anything more than tap out harder and more frantically, or possibly make a futile attempt to pry the woman’s legs apart. He would prefer not to pass out, but this night wasn’t about him – it was about Pamela and Harleen. And he had no desire to let a moderate personal preference interfere with their pleasure. And so, having reasoned his way through the “worst case scenario,” he gave his “well-reasoned” answer.

“I mean … whenever, really,” Jerome said, giving an awkward half shrug to try to make sure they believed that his lack of self-interest was genuine. “Stop whenever you get tired or bored. Like we discussed, my desires are irrelevant –you don’t stop when I want you to, or even when I beg you to; you stop when you want to. Until then, I am your pet, your servant, and your play-thing. Nothing more.”

As he finished his response, he saw Pamela’s eyes harden. Her stare was, at first, just icy cold, but as a small grin spread across her lips he saw a frightening glimmer of cruelty start to sparkle within the depths of her eyes, and he took an involuntary gulp.

“Fair enough,” Pamela stated, her unblinking gaze still locked on his. “Harley, dear,” Pamela asked, using a nickname Jerome had never heard her use, while keeping her eyes still locked on Jerome’s so that he could watch the glimmer of cruelty grow into a joyfully viscious sparkle. “Do you mind if I start?”

“Go ahead!”

“Ok,” she said, lying down on top of Jerome. “Here – lift his head up between my legs.”

Harley lifted Jerome’s head all the way up until his nose was almost pressed into Pamela’s ass. Jerome was about to make some sort of quip, but in that moment Pamela locked her ankles together and kicked her legs out straight. Jerome’s words quite literally caught in his throat. The pressure was absurd! His eyes bulged and his lips puckered involuntarily as his jaw almost shifted out of position. Jerome felt his neck compress, losing what had to be a couple inches in width at least.

“Argh!” Jerome grunted. He started trying to breathe hard to bear the pain, but as it happens breathing is very difficult when your neck is being compressed.

“Oh yeah!” Harley said excitedly. “Squeeze him! Squeeze him hard!”

Pamela wiggled slightly to get herself better leverage and then kicked her legs out harder, squeezing Jerome with strength that seemed inhuman. Jerome felt his jaw getting pushed further forward as the pressure forced it to protrude unnaturally. Pamela’s legs may have felt soft to the touch while at rest, but as her muscles flexed around Jerome’s neck they turned rock solid. With no yield in her legs, Jerome’s neck did all the yielding; the soft flesh compressing as Pamela did her best to bring her legs together, giving no regard to the presence of Jerome’s neck as anything more than an obstacle to that goal. The pressure on Jerome’s neck somehow caused Jerome’s head to feel like it was going to explode, as if the blood in his neck had been squished up into his head and was trying to burst through his skull.

“Owww!” Jerome yelled involuntarily.

“Ow?” Pamela asked teasingly. “I thought you said you could survive a bit of a squeeze!” As she spoke she loosened her grip just slightly, grabbed a hold of Jerome’s hair, and pulled him deeper in before putting full pressure back on him and accentuating the word “squeeze.”

Jerome started sputtering. Pamela’s squeeze didn’t let up in the slightest, and his vision grew a little wonky. He tried to pull in some air, but while he was managing to inhale the occasional rattling gasp, it didn’t really seem to be helping. To frustrate things, he could not swallow, and so saliva was just beginning to pool in his mouth. His lips also started tingling.

“Ok! Ok! Ow!” Jerome managed to get out, not really knowing what else he could say. He started to writhe on the floor as genuine discomfort set in. He hadn’t anticipated the vice-like grip Pamela’s legs could trap his neck in. Her legs were muscular, but he had no clue that those muscles could become this hard and unforgiving.

“Whoa!” Harley said. “That was fast! Lemme get a turn.”

Harley lay down next to Jerome and Pamela.

“Ok,” Pamela said, releasing Jerome’s head, which thumped to the floor, where Jerome just gasped in air and swallowed. Harley wasn’t waiting around though – she immediately grabbed Jerome’s head and pulled it toward her. With no fanfare or gentleness, she turned Jerome’s head to the side to look in her direction, and pulled his face toward her, sticking the front of his neck right up against her groin.

“Wait! Gimme a–”

“Nope!” Harley said, cutting him off by locking her ankles and squeezing down on Jerome’s neck.

“Ahargh!” Jerome yelled as all the pain returned. Jerome rolled onto his side so his body was at least facing the same way as his face.

“What? No – you don’t get to just roll into a comfortable position. Pamela, will you hold him down?”

“No! Pweesh.” Jerome could not quite formulate words in his present state.

“Pweesh?” Pamela mocked with a laugh as she pulled his body back flat.

“Ow! Wait! Shtop.” Jerome said, now in substantial discomfort. His breathing quickened as his head began to spin … well his gasping really, as he wasn’t able to draw breath well enough to do what most would consider breathing. In any case nothing about the way he “breathed” seemed to help his growing lightheadedness. He was having a lot of difficulty focusing, and many of his movements were no longer particularly voluntary. “Ugghh,” Jerome moaned. “Wait. I need to shwallow. Pweesh.”

Harley and Pamela just burst out laughing.

“Pweesh.” Jerome said again.

“Should I give him a break?” Harley asked.

“No! Squeeze harder!”

“No! Don’t! Stop!”

“Don’t stop?” Harley mocked. “Well it seems he agrees with you Pam!”

And with that she kicked her legs out as hard as she could and thrust her hips forward, crushing Jerome’s neck and jaw. Jerome could see her grit her teeth a bit with the exertion, but more than that he could feel the effects. His eyes felt like they were about to pop out, and he began to develop a severe headache, and his lips when through pins and needles on to feeling totally numb. He writhed involuntarily.

“What the fuck? Stay still Jerome!” Pamela commanded.

Jerome couldn’t listen. He was starting to panic. “Shtop! Lemme go!” He managed to get out before just starting to drool on himself because he couldn’t swallow.

“No! Stay still! Stop being such a bitch.” Harley said. “Ew! Did you just drool on me?! What the fuck man? That’s disgusting.” And with that she, impossibly, squeezed even harder, thrusting her hips forward with everything she had.

Jerome managed nothing more than a gargling, choking noise, and he felt his jaw make a popping noise as it was pushed to its limit.

“Holy crap I just made his jaw pop!” Harley said with a laugh.

“No way. You liar.”

“No seriously. Here – come squeeze really hard just like I did.”

She let Jerome go. Jerome gasped in breath, trying to stop his vision from swimming and swallow at least once before talking. “Wait, no, don’t. I don’t want to do this anymore, it’s not what I thought.”

Harleen and Pamela were switching positions, not pausing to pay attention to what Jerome was saying. Jerome tried to sit himself up to get his point across. Pamela was having none of it.

“Where do you think you are going?” She asked, grabbing his hair and pulling him back down to where she had lain next to him with her legs opened up. “Get in here – I want to feel your jaw pop.”

“No, Pamela, it hurts really bad. I want to st—”

Once again he never got to finish his sentence as Pamela’s legs locked around his neck and jaw.

“Ok so what did you do again?” Pamela asked with the casual innocence of a student learning a new trick on an instrument.

“I just squeezed really hard and pushed my hips forward. It would probably be even worse if you kinda twisted a bit though – you know, stretch his neck.”

“No! Don’t!”

Pamela did though. She thrust her hips way forward, arching her back, and putting everything she had into squeezing her legs all the way together. The catch, again, was that Jerome’s head and neck were in between them.

“Oooooh!” Jerome made a noise somewhere between a moan and an exhale. Pamela thrust her hips a few times.

“His jaw isn’t doing anything,” She complained.

“Try twisting!”

“Oh yeah,” she said, rotating her hips to the side, pulling Jerome’s neck into an awkward angle and then bending it backwards. That did the trick, and Jerome felt his jaw pop again, quite painfully this time.

“Ahh!” Jerome let out a yelp.

“Oh! There it went!” Pamela said gleefully. “I like that.”

Jessica rotated further, pulling Jerome’s neck so hard that he had to arch his own back to keep his neck from stretching past its limit.

“Oh god that’s awesome, Pamela! Keep doing that!”

“Ohohowww,” Jerome moaned.

“Awwwww,” Harley said with mock pity. “Is Jerome going to cwy? Cwy like a widdwe baby.”

“Pweesh shtop,” Jerome moaned.

“Ok I need to go back to the position before,” Pamela said. “I can’t see his face like this, and I really want to.” Pamela rotated back to a normal, prone position, at least letting Jerome’s neck go back into a normal position. She didn’t plan on letting up at all though. She grabbed the back of Jerome’s head and pulled it in towards her as hard as she could, and squeezed down hard.

“Owwwwwwwwww,” Jerome moaned. He felt a bit of drool fall out of his mouth.

“Ew, he’s drooling again,” said Pamela.

“That’s fucking gross – squeeze him harder, maybe he’ll learn to keep his spit in his mouth.”

“Good idea.” Pamela grit her teeth, grabbed the back of his head, and now as she squeezed she pulled him into her hard for emphasis.

“Uhughuhhhh,” Jerome made a hopeless noise somewhere between a groan and a sob.

“Oh god, I think he’s going to cry!” Pamela said. “C’mon, cry! Cry for me Jerome.”

“Pweesh … pweeeesh,” Jerome whined.

“No. I want you to cry for me.”

“I can’t … can’t breathe.”

“Then stop talking.” She sounded cold. Jerome had never seen this side of Pamela before. He writhed a bit, choked involuntarily, and tried to pull his neck back. But he was too weak and dizzy. Jessica frowned slightly at his efforts to get away, and redoubled her own efforts, squeezing with even greater might, pushing her hips forward, and pulling his head towards her so hard is nose was almost pressed into her groin. She didn’t press him all the way in though; she kept him where she could see his face, and, most importantly, his eyes. The entire time she squeezed she just stared into his eyes, waiting.

Finally, with a whimper, Jerome started to cry. It started with just a sniffle, but then a tear welled up in one eye, and after that it just kind of all happened. Tears started to flow down his face, and he started to do some very awkward sobbing, as he could not breathe well enough to actually cry.

“He’s crying! Holy crap, Harley he is balling his eyes out!”

“Lemme see!” Harley let go of the shoulder she had been pinning down, but he was too tired to roll anywhere anyway at this point. She crawled around to look down at him with Jessica. “Oh my god he is full on weeping.” And he was.

“Pweeeeeessssh,” Jerome wailed. “Shtooooop!” And with that he slobbered some more, unable to control himself.

“Fuck, dude, stop spitting on us. Christ that’s gross. Here, let’s see how you like it.” And with that Pamela cleared her throat and hocked a loogie straight into his eye, forcing him to close an eye. Pamela didn’t like that. “No – if I spit on you, you don’t get to just close your eye,” she said. She reached down to his face and pulled his eye open, letting everything she had just spit onto his face just slip into his eyeball, where it stung.

“OWWWWW!” Jerome yelled (or tried to – he couldn’t be very loud).

“Well, don’t drool on me,” Jessica said.

“Can you make him face up?” Sarah asked.

“Sure, why?” Jessica said, loosening up for just long enough to rotate Jerome’s face to look a the ceiling before she clamped back down. Jerome gasped deeply at air in his instant of marginal freedom, but the moment she squeezed again he gagged hard. The pressure of her squeeze was now on his windpipe.

“Oh! That’s awesome! Is that why you wanted to do that?”

“No, but that is definitely a perk!” Harley laughed. “I want to make him my bitch while you squeeze him.” And with that she leaned over and planted a fierce, upside down kiss on Jerome’s lips. Jerome yanked away, both because he was in no mood to let one of the people doing this to him kiss him, and because he needed his mouth to breath. Unfortunately, he really could not go far. Harley simply grabbed a hold of Jerome’s head to hold it still, and jammed her lips back down against his.

“Mmph! MMMMMM!” Jerome struggled to pull away, but to no avail. The more he tried to struggle, the more Harley got into it. Suddenly she bit his lip, hard, and pulled it out.

“Owwwwww!!!”

“Oh Hell yeah Harley! Get him!”

“Hold on, I wanna see his face.” Sarah rotated so she was kissing him “normally” over the top of Jessica’s leg. She bit down on the same lip and pulled it out again, eliciting another yelp, but this time she did not let it go. She slowly just bit down harder and harder. Jerome started to just let himself scream. It’s not like a bone was breaking, it just hurt, and it was so humiliating!

“Cry for me now, Jerome,” Harley said, continuing to bite down harder and harder. “Cry for me.”

Then she bit down super hard, and he felt her teeth go through the skin on either side of his lip. He screamed with new energy as he felt a trickle of blood flow into his mouth, and despite his best efforts, he started to sob again. Satisfied, Harley let his lip go.

“That’s a good boy,” Harley said, as if he were a dog. “Awww, it’s ok. It will stop hurting soon. It’s ok.” And with that she kissed him gently, sweetly, like a lover. And Jerome kissed her back. He wasn’t really sure why; he didn’t really feel like he had a choice. As he kissed her he started to cry harder, realizing that Harley and Pamela were now toying with him emotionally as well as physically. 

“Shhhhhh,” Harley cooed to him. “It’s ok.” Right as she said that, Pamela rotated which ankle was around which and renewed her squeeze, and Jerome choked hard as his windpipe felt like it was pushed against his spinal chord. “It’s ok,” Harley just whispered again, lifting her lips from his to let him gag. She drifted upwards and kissed his eye. Apparently also irritated that Jerome would close his eyes against intrusion, she then proceeded to hold his eyelids apart and begin to make out with his eyeball. First she kissed it a few times, and then began dragging her tongue around it, leaving a small trail of stinging saliva behind as she pulled back. Jerome just altered between gagging and sobbing.

“Shhhh. It’s ok. We’ll take a break soon,” Harley said as she transitioned to his other eyeball.

“Wait what?” Pamela said, clearly not pleased with the implication.

“Well, sure,” Harley replied. “Don’t you wanna see if you can knock him out?”

At that, Jerome’s eyes went wide despite the spit in them, and he managed to find his voice for a moment in between gags … or at least found enough to get out a stuttered “No … *cough* … pweesh.” He tried to lift himself up or writhe about somehow, but he couldn’t really get himself to move.

“OH! Goodness I hadn’t even thought of that! That does sound fun.”

“Squeeze as hard as you can – I bet you can choke him out!”

And with that Pamela arched her back and pushed her legs as straight as they could go. Jerome felt as if his windpipe would just collapse. He started kicking and writhing as full-blown panic overwhelmed even his state of oxygen deprivation. It didn’t dawn on him that all the motion would probably just make it worse. His face began to tingle all over, and his vision began to swim. He was confident he would pass out soon, but apparently it was not happening fast enough to please his roommates.

“This is taking too long,” Harley said. “Here rotate so you are sitting on his chest, which should make it harder for him to breathe, and then I can also help.”

“Ok.” Pamela let go of his head.

Jerome took advantage of what he figured would be his only chance at changing his fate, and tried to writhe away from them.

“Stop!” He yelled. “I mean it, I don’t want to do anymore. Don’t knock me out!”

“Stop being such a fucking baby! Get over here!” Pamela yelled back. And she got what she wanted. With his feet tied together, his hands tied behind his back, and mostly out of oxygen, Jerome was going nowhere fast. Pamela plopped herself down on his chest, her weight pressing Jerome’s wrists into an awkward and painful position under him, contorting his wrist and elbow joints.

“Ow! My arms!”

“I don’t fucking care, Jerome! Just stop being such a little bitch!”

And with that she grabbed his hair and yanked his head painfully up into her crotch, wrapped her legs around his neck and face, linked her ankles again, and returned to squeezing him with everything she had.

“OWWWW!” Jerome yelled again, having recovered just a bit of breath over his brief break. Putting everything he had into a final escape attempt, he arched his back, pushing up with his legs and thrusting his hips into the air to lift Pamela up and throw her off.

“Whoa!” She explained in surprise, but it didn’t help too much. Her legs remained locked firmly around his neck, and didn’t yield in the slightest despite her slight loss of balance. A moment later, the plan backfired: he had forgotten about Harley, who promptly kicked his feet out from under him. As his legs flew to the side to fall into a somewhat awkward bend because they were tied together, Jerome found himself unable to control his flop back to the floor at all, and he came down even more awkwardly on his arms, which were twisted badly and felt like they were about to break.

“AHHHH! My arms!” Jerome yelled.

“Serves you fucking right. How dare you try to throw me off you?”

“No! Pweesh! You don’t understand. My arm is gonna break!”

“Your arm isn’t going to break, you big baby. Just shut up and lie still, and you can take your break soon … well we can take a break. When you come back to, I promise we will already have our legs around you again, and we will start anew.”

“My armsh. Pweesh. Ow! Lemme out!”

“Oh just pass out already, I am getting so sick of listening to you whine.”

“I think I can help with that,” Harley said, coming back into Jerome’s frame of view. “Lean back some more, Pam.”

Pam leaned back, and Jerome watched as Harley stepped right up above him, straddling his face.

“No way. Oh god no. Pweesh don’t. I beg you, pweesh! Pwe—”

And then Jerome got cut off yet again, as Harley simply sat herself down on his face.

“Mmph!” That was all Jerome could manage now with his face up to his nose pressed deep into Harley’s ass, and the full weight of her 5’11 muscular frame bearing down on him. Jerome tried to inhale, but now he actually couldn’t inhale. He tried to wiggle his head, but with somewhere between 140 and 150 pounds on his face and Pamela’s legs locked on either side of his neck he could barely twitch. The most he managed was to eek the occasional bit of air into his nostrils when he broke the seal on his face for a fraction of a second. But that wasn’t enough to sustain him, and Harley knew it. She didn’t even bother to stop him. Instead she simply looked back at him and giggled.

“You know every time you take a little breath you just make this go longer, right?”

It didn’t matter; it wasn’t voluntary. Jerome’s lungs demanded air; his panicked mind demand that he try his hardest to inhale and remain conscious. He could feel his feet kicking awkwardly as he involuntarily writhed beneath his roommates. He became aware that he was crying again, and making the most pitiful noises. This just made his roommates start laughing.

“Squeeze Pam! Squeeze harder! It can’t be too much longer now! I can feel him getting weaker.”

“How do we know when he has passed out?”

“I assume when he stops struggling.”

Jerome could feel the edges of his vision creeping in, and he felt the full weight of panic set in.

“Ooooh! Look at him squirm!” Harley said. Pamela just laughed harder.

“Finish him,” Pamela said. “No more little breaths!”

Harley leaned further back on Jerome’s face, leaving no wiggle room, and no possibility of air. The edges of Jerome’s vision started to go black, his fingers and toes started going numb, and he felt all his struggles weaken. A little whine escaped him; an involuntary, hopeless, whimpering, high pitched noise that wasted what little air he had left.

“Oh he’s going now,” Harley said. “He’s going!”

As Jerome’s vision faded closer to completely out, he felt himself start spasming involuntarily, his chest twitching and heaving as his diaphragm tried to force him to draw breath.

“Fuck that’s kind of turning me on!” he distantly heard Harley exclaim. In his last seconds of consciousness, he could feel Harley start to grind herself on his face.

“Oh fuck!” She said, and moaned softly. That was the last Jerome knew before everything went black.

“I think he’s out,” Pamela said.

“Wait. Don’t let go yet. I like his weird twitching,” Harley said, still grinding on his face and moaning. Pamela giggled.

“Kiss me,” Harley said.

Pamela smiled coyly, and lifted her face up to Harley’s where they started to passionately make out, feeding off the unexpected thrill of dominating Jerome together, basking in the strange pleasure of feeling his unconscious body twitch beneath them.

“Should I let him go?”

“No – I’m sure he’s fine, just keep kissing me!”

Harley was going wild, grinding on Jerome’s face. After around 15 seconds, though, even she realized they should probably let up, as even Jerome’s twitching began to weaken. It didn’t mean she had to stop what she was doing with Pam, though, so she simply pushed forward, letting Jerome’s face free and pressing Pam back. As she fell on top of Jess, their lips locked passionately together, Jerome’s head fell free, and they heard him start making strange snorting noises, and felt him twitch violently underneath them. His ridiculous spasms broke the mood a little, and they couldn’t help simply bursting into a fit of laughter together as they lay on top of him, feeling him twitch and snort his way slowly back towards consciousness.


End file.
